On this Day
by Anakin's Girl 4eva
Summary: On one special day, Bo does some thinking and reflecting.


**_A/N: Well...boy has it been an age since i've done this. So first off, my deepest and most sincere apologies for disappearing on you half way through a story that was started at Christmas. I'll admit now that that next chapter has not yet been written and I promise I will get it done before this christmas arrives. blushes I've been so busy though, with exams and the results and prepairing for Uni that I have just had no inspiration for anything, until today when this little idea popped into my head. Hopefully this is a sign that my muse is returning and the next chapter for that christmas fic will be up soon. Just in time to get you all geered up for the holidays lol. _**

**_Well, hope you all like this little one shot I wrote, please review and tell me what you think :-)_**

**_Best Wishes  
_****_  
Ani xx_**

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I watched from the porch as Daisy, Luke and Uncle Jesse all piled into the truck, each one sombre and deep in thought as my cousins each cradled small but beautiful bunches of flowers created from the beauty of Daisy's small garden here on the farm. It had once belonged to Aunt Lavinia, but when she passed on Daisy had taken it over and continued to grow our Aunt's favourite flowers in memory of her and all she had done for us in the years we had spent with her.

Luke couldn't understand why I would not go up to the graveyard with them on this day that both he and Daisy dreaded but treasured. He never did and neither really did Daisy though the conversation between us before they set out would always happen. It was like a tradition between me and her, some form of regularity on this day that I could be included in before I spent the rest of the day alone.

"Are you sure you won't come with us Bo…"

I always would nod with a small smile and wrap my arms around her, holding her close. She was always more emotional on this day, Luke was too although he would never show it. He wasn't emotionless, but it took someone close to know when Luke was hurting or upset. He wouldn't shed his tears in public, he had to be alone or with someone he loved and trusted…but anyone can tell from the way he carries himself and the look in his eyes when he is upset. He becomes quiet, more stiff and upright and less talkative. That's why me an' Daisy have the conversation…not me an' Luke.

"I'm sure darlin'…"

"Maybe it would help this year…you should really come an' see…"

"Daisy…I been through this…" I say softly "I just can't…"

Then comes her soft sigh and nod of her head, looking up at me with eyes that grieved not for her pain but for mine as well. She rubs my arm, before moving her hand to my cheek in a small loving gesture so like Aunt Lavinia's that if I close my eyes I can imagine it is her caressing it so softly. Eventually though, Uncle Jesse clears his throat and they head out, and always I stand here on the porch in the fresh country air, watching as they drive away down the old beaten track up to the cemetery.

As soon as the truck disappears, I sink down onto the porch swing and begin to think (as I always do on this day more than any other) of what it is I should be grieving for. To Luke, I have no grief which is why I stay behind and I suppose to a certain extent it's true.

I look out over the farmyard and see my whole life, the only place I have ever called home and the only place that contains the people I have ever called my family. I can't understand why Daisy and Luke ever think about a time that happened way before I was born, why they continue to go up to the graveyard and sit in front of two pieces of stone each and cry over them, whisper things to them.

On this Day, Daisy and Luke go up to visit their parents. They, along with Uncle Jesse who visits our Auntie, sit together and talk with their parents a while before turning their one sided conversations to the living people around them. They talk about the few memories they still have of when they were younger and could remember being bounced on their daddies' knees or cuddled and sung to sleep by their mama's.

Do you see now why I don't want to go up there? Uncle Jesse does, he knows all this…I can't keep anything from him. I have no memories of my mama and papa. The only lullabies I ever remember are from Aunt Lavinia, the only hugs from her arms also. The only rough games I remember playing are from Luke, the only lectures and fond ruffling of the hair from him and Uncle Jesse both. My parents were ripped from my life when I was just six months old, a little tyke with a mop of blonde hair already according to Uncle Jesse.

I feel as though I have no place up there with Luke and Daisy…while they would shed tears and have things to whisper…I would have nothing…all that I could say could be fitted into the whole of a minute or so before I would get bored and think of something else. Why should I go up there, when all I would see before me are two pieces of stone with some strangers names carved into them? I can't picture their faces in my mind…sure I had pictures, but they are all in black and white…I have no memories to fill in the exact colour of their eyes or cheeks, no sounds in which to fill in their soft voices or cheerful laughs. All I have are the memories of other people who mourn them in my place.

I guess in a way I do mourn…just not them. I mourn for the memories I do not have of them. Every time I look at their pictures, I see strangers, people who I am supposed to recognise…but if you put them in a crowd of people I couldn't tell you who they were.

So who do I see as my parents? I had to come from somewhere didn't I? I'll bet you already know same as Uncle Jesse knows. I am him and Aunt Lavinia…they were the ones to raise me from infancy and so I have picked up all their mannerisms. I have Aunt Lavinia's way of dealing with emotion and the emotions of others, her way of sensing the good in all people and being able to trust in strangers so openly. But then, I also have Uncle Jesse's hot temper that gets me into a lot of trouble, which he says is like my fathers. Them being brother's though, I call it his.

And that's when I realize I do have memories of my parents…I have Aunt Lavinia's cuddles and soft ways of dealing with my scraped knees and mischievous antics. I have Uncle Jesse's lectures and teachings of farm work and wisdom. I may not have been born from my Aunt, but I was certainly created from her and Uncle Jesse, the man I am today is down to the raising they gave me on this small farm with nothing but love and understanding.

So from this point on, my mind fills with all the memories I have of them and my cousins as I grew up through life. First Days of School, Birthdays, Christmases, Football games….through each one, they were there to witness them and provide me with the memories my parents weren't able to fill in. Now my memories have colour, sound, meaning and purpose all thanks to the people whom I owe my whole existence to. With Uncle Jesse as my father's brother, I suppose I have turned out a little like him…if I had been raised by strangers then all of who he and my mother were would have been lost completely…so their memory continues to live in me, even though I can't see it.

I didn't realize quite how late in the day it was until the glare of headlights hit my eyes and I shielded them, looking out over the farmyard. Luke, Daisy and Uncle Jesse were back, chattering happily and looking a lot more contended than when they had left earlier this day. I stand to greet them and head down the steps to the yard, running first into Daisy who hugged me close with a small smile before heading inside, then Luke who too wrapped me in a gentle hug…his way of saying sorry for the silent treatment he had unwittingly treated me to that morning without words. Of course I forgive him with my own hug back.

He then heads inside, and leaves my Uncle and me standing in silence with each other. We walk as always to the picnic table, where we just sit quietly together and look up at the stars for a while, one of the more quieter and memorable activities only he and I share. Eventually we get to talking of other events, the day out after the visit to the graveyard and some other things he wanted to talk about before we too head inside.

But today, I made the ending to my tale of this day different. Today I stopped him on the porch.

"Uncle Jesse…"

He turns to me with his hand on the handle to the screen door, his old and weathered face bearing a small and contented smile.

"Yes Bo?"

"Thank you..." I whisper gently, as I step forward and wrap my arms around him.

I know he understands what the thank you is for; I feel it in his arms as he wraps them around me and holds me close to him. He's always understood me like the son I feel like I truly am to him and now we share a silent understanding hug that stands for everything I wanted to say, but for once in my life just couldn't.

Many people ask me why I still believe and respect someone who took my parents life away from me…and my answer is always the same - Because in the tragedy of my parents death, the good lord offered me a life that replaced it almost perfectly. I not only had a mother and father still…but I gained a brother and sister through it too.

So, on this day, I remember my parents – one still living and one departed – the life I have lived with them…and I celebrate the fact that in my parents death, I gained a whole new life that couldn't be more perfect to me.

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**_As always, please read and review :-)_**


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